


Mr. I-don't-give-a-single-fuck

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Stupid Teenagers, also there's sloppy makeouts, fluff I write because I have no life, its shit don't even read it, so I'm making it a thing, this ship isn't even a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those late-night talks were pretty much the only thing you looked forward to all day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. I-don't-give-a-single-fuck

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone, so I'm sorry if it's shit.  
> Also I really wanted an excuse to write more kisses with these two.  
> This isn't even worthy of an M rating, but I put it there just to be safe :D  
> Erisolsprite/Davesprite is my OTP and I will do whatever it takes to make this ship happen.

Davis Strider always drops in when you're not sleeping.  
It started with a plan, a ploy to hang out at midnight in your room every night without your parents knowing. They didn't like his family, telling you that they were bad influences and sparring on the roof was "no way to discipline your child." You, personally, thought sword fights on the roof were pretty cool. Davis agreed with you. He'd leave his home, next to yours, at about quarter to twelve. Then, he would climb up from the landing of your doorway to your window and knock--toc toc toc toctoc...toc toc!--so you knew it was him. And then you'd open the window and he'd be looking at you with messy orange hair and those stupid aviators on his face that his whole family wore. You'd roll your eyes and make some sort of half-assed snarky comment, letting him in. And he'd plop down next to you, letting you wrap a blanket around him to warm him up, if it was wintertime. And then you'd talk, about everything and nothing, until your mouth couldn't move and form coherent sentences. You'd lay down with him, but you were never able to sleep, too afraid of the horrorterrors that crept up on you and put their claws around your neck, suffocating you in dreams.  
He was hesitant at first, only just rubbing your back and shooshing you, but you didn't want him touching you anyway. As you grew older, though, he'd lay beside you and wrap one arm, then both, around you as you'd try to slow your breathing. Once you finally fell asleep, Davis would disappear, leaving you to your nightmares.  
When you reached the fragile age of thirteen, however, things changed. Instead of him coming over, you were the one who crept out. You'd climb out of bed and slide out your window, hauling your pillow along with you. You'd done this so many times, you knew exactly which of the boards on your porch creaked loudly when you jumped down from the landing onto them. Then it was easy; run down the stairs, through the thin sheet of snow and across the yard to his house.  
You only had to knock on their door. His brothers knew about your little get togethers, and welcomed you in every night. You still remember Bro, the one who opened the door; tall, handsome, with a gray baseball cap and blond stubble that you'd always sort of wanted to rub your cheek against. He had a thick Texas drawl that all the Striders seemed to share, some more than others. You'd walk in after his typical greeting of "Hey, kid," and make your way up to Davis's room, too embarrassed to say anything.  
Davis would be on his bed, listening to music on his iPod. His whole room was painted bright orange, which gave it a warm glow, even though it was nighttime.  
You'd make your way through the mess of his room to the small white light that was his iPod and sat down next to him. Davis would pop one earbud out and prop his elbow up on his knee, and you'd start talking. You seemed to be doing less and less of that lately. It had become a bit more physical now. You'd hold him if he hadn't had a good day, and he'd hold you when you were having one of your self-loathing episodes. And then you'd both weep and sob and rest your faces in each other's necks, waiting for the pain in your stomachs from crying to pass.  
Once you'd finish crying, you would try to coax him into taking his aviators off. This never worked, until you turned fifteen. You came over on your birthday and asked him to take his shades off as a present.  
He gave you much more.  
You remember the exact synopsis. It was one in the morning, and you were both having a rather touchy-feely day. Your forehead was about a centimeter from his, and through the light of his iPhone--he had upgraded--you could see the freckles artfully placed over the bridge of his nose.  
"Take the shades off, Davis," you asked him.  
"Let me wait for the right moment."  
"You've been doing that for the past hour. Just fucking do it."  
"Mr. I-don't-give-a-single-fuck Amptor suddenly cares too much about what's under the shades."  
"I've been caring for six fucking years."  
You remember what he did then. He leaned in and tilted his head to the side, nuzzling your cheek. It tickled a little.  
"Maybe next year?"  
"No," you said, shaking your head. "Now or never, Strider."  
"Fuck, this is really a thing."  
"Yes, it's a goddamn thing. Now hurry it up and stop tickling my face."  
He'd pressed his lips to your cheek before pulling back. But you hadn't realized this until a moment too late, when he had slipped his shades off and you were looking into the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.  
Warm, light amber, that's what they were. A hue of orange that you never knew you loved, until you saw it. He stared at you for a few moments more, looking a bit intimidated.  
"See? It's really nothing," Davis said, pulling his shades back on.  
"You're right," you had answered, nodding. Now it was your turn to be intimate, you guessed. You were never very good at that. But this time, it felt okay. You had leaned in and given him Eskimo kisses.  
"You don't, like, care, do you?" Davis asked, pressing himself against you. You could see the nervousness in him; looking at his eyes wasn't necessary.  
"Do I ever care?"  
"True."  
You kept looking at Davis, watching him. You wore shades, but not at night. He'd seen your eyes a million times before, merely saying that they were cool. None of the bullshit your family had said. Just cool. Cool was all you wanted, anyway.  
"Hey."  
"What?"  
"Kiss me,"  
"Davis, what the fuck."  
"C'mon, man. Just do it."  
He'd laughed at the way you squeezed your eyes shut at first, just barely grazing your tightly-shut lips over his. Even then, his lips were warm. You wouldn't deny that.  
"That was the shittiest kiss ever."  
"Sorry that I wasn't expecting a proposal to a fucking makeout session," you snapped.  
"We can so do that."  
You left after that. Davis had texted you, asking if you were okay and if you were still cool.  
You'd responded with a simple "yes."  
The next day, you went over there again. After walking upstairs and lying next to Davis, you said nothing. Neither did he. You just lay there in the comfortable sound of tinny music escaping from the shitty speakers of Davis's iPhone, muffled against his pillow.  
He leaned in, and you panicked, but it was only to press a small kiss against your temple. False alarm, you guessed. You exhaled.  
That breath was quickly lost, because Davis stayed where he was. His legs wrapped around yours, and your eyes widened a little in fear and in a weird sort of excitement.  
"Erisol."  
"Hm?"  
"Open your mouth, just a little."  
Your lip had quivered, but you did as he had said. Slowly, you'd felt his lips slide into the gap between yours, and you forgot how to breathe for a few heartbeats.  
Then, you began to move with him. His lips were warm and damp, a little too smooth against your mouth. He had planned this out.  
"You...had this figured out...?" That was all you could manage to murmur between his soft, soundless kisses.  
Davis pulled back from you slowly, and there was a small click, indicating your lips had separated. "Yep. Six years, really."  
"Oh."  
"Now can we do that again? I still have stuff from the book Bro got me to try out."  
"Dear God."  
"I'm not going to fuck you. Calm your tits."  
"Oh, sure. You're the one who kissed me. Therefore you're the one whose tits must be calmed."  
Davis bumped noses with you when he leaned in again, and you chuckled. He caught it while your mouth was open, kissing you just to shut you up. You'd returned it a little harsher then you'd hope, teeth clicking against his occasionally and making you both wince. To make up for it, he'd pushed his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. You didn't know what exactly to do, so you just licked over it, and Davis let out a soft "mmph" in reaction, mirroring your actions and winding your tongues together. You had felt like he knew so much more about kissing than you did; must've been that book.  
You bit at his lip once he pulled away to take a breath, tugging on it. You hadn't been breathing before, so why should he? Besides, you wanted to try that tongue thing again.  
"Jesus, now look who's getting into it."  
"Shut up."  
"Gladly." He kissed you again, needily. You reciprocated exactly how he did, tongues twisting and licking and exploring, not caring whether they were in or out of your mouths. It felt good.  
He pulled back again, starting to press sucking kisses from under your ear to down your neck. Fuck, it was getting serious now. You knew, even at fifteen, that neck kissing was serious. You'd seen people walking around with hickeys on their jaws, gloating about how they'd gotten them, but you never understood. However, you'd felt as if you'd be learning more about that subject tonight.  
"Agh, you bit me..." You trailed off when he did it again on purpose. Little fucker.  
"Good luck hiding that from your parents," Davis laughed.  
"You're next," you'd teased him.


End file.
